


Perth Traumatic Stress Disorder

by komkommertijd



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Coffee Shops, Feelings, Idiots in Love, M/M, Moving On, Or not, Past Relationship(s), Random Encounters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25097803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komkommertijd/pseuds/komkommertijd
Summary: Perth is lucky that she's pretty, otherwise Valtteri would hate that city, the only place his heart's been torn in two.He resents the way Daniel made him love his western town.
Relationships: Valtteri Bottas/Daniel Ricciardo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Perth Traumatic Stress Disorder

**Author's Note:**

> Hi kids I'm back on my bullshit after listening to [Perth Traumatic Stress Disorder](https://open.spotify.com/track/5vVpjKKKjw7HurX28pup9a?si=TmB9WAioQ6mDe9YQbX6VYA) by Alex Lahey for a few hours on repeat. Somehow this plot came to my mind last night when I listened to the song, so I couldn't help myself but write this. The lyrics kind of helped me with that.
> 
> Anyway, as per usual, English is not my first language so I apologize for my mistakes and hope that you can ignore them for the time being. Everything else is just my own stupidity :)
> 
> This doesn't make a lot of sense and despite me trying to write more about this pairing it still makes me very anxious, so please bear with me. I'm always trying to improve and I'm grateful for all kinds of feedback - whether you want to tell me that you loved it or yell at me for writing an absolute clusterfuck, I always appreciate it endlessly.
> 
> Alternatively, you can come and talk to me on [Tumblr](https://komkommertijd.tumblr.com/) if you want to, I'll gladly ramble about what exactly made me write this.
> 
> I hope you'll be able to enjoy it somehow :)

Returning to Perth feels like coming home, in a way, a warm embrace from a place Valtteri knows so well by now. The first steps are always the same, soles of sneakers squeaking against the clinical white of the airport floor. The movements are familiar – scanning passports, talking to way too cheery staff members to declare that no, he's not bringing illegal goods into the country, dragging his luggage off the conveyor belt, pressing the annoying yellow button on the review panel that asks him to rate his stay at the airport. Walking through the arrival zone, successfully ignoring cringy couples reuniting and family members with signs for their loved ones, leaving the building, feeling the first wave of heat hitting him square in the face.

  
Perth smells like heated concrete underneath the sun and a faint, almost cliche tone of salty air accompanies it. It looks almost dangerously peaceful, sleek glass giants stretching into the sky and reflecting the bright rays of sunshine, an aesthetically pleasing glimmer serving as a highlighter in the skyline. It looks familiar and yet Valtteri will never get used to seeing it for the first time, the surreal weight of being back knocking the air out of him for the briefest of seconds. The view will never get old.

  
The city welcomes him with open arms and honest smiles, not even wavering in its enthusiasm when Valtteri rumbles his usual coffee order into the face of a young barista. He looks like a hipster. Maybe that's just what the city does when it becomes a part of you, Valtteri thinks and grabs his coffee off the counter. It's way too hot outside for coffee. It's stupid.

  
The pavement crinkles underneath his feet when they carry him down the street to the address of his usual hotel. It took a while to get used to staying in hotels when in Perth but Valtteri could deal with it. Just fine in fact. The light on top of the scanner blinks green when he swipes the plain keycard of his room over it.

  
Right outside of his window, the city keeps buzzing with life, cars, people, some dogs passing by. The coffee is cold when he stops staring at the redlight not too far down the road from the hotel, tearing his gaze away from the colorful crowd of humans being busy and worrying about their own lives, thinking their own thoughts, smiling politely and chatting excitedly.

  
Perth is loud, full of laughter and happiness that shines as bright as the Western Australian sun, warm like the sand and refreshing like the azure waves crashing against the waterfront. It's probably not the typical travel destination one would expect from Valtteri Bottas of all people and it surprises him just as much as everyone else, but the city doesn't care about where its visitors come from, treating them as its children and taking care of them until their ways part again.

  
No one is immune against the charm of the city, presenting in the banter of good-looking waiters, love songs sung by street artists, the evening glow that compliments even the paleness of Valtteri's skin. It leaves them enchanted, adoring the urban heat and beaches and the soft tone of its name coming across their lips in loving whispers. Valtteri sips his drink, stares into the night lights, listens to the sound of cars and the seemingly far away conversations around him, lets it all sink in, realizes what exactly he's doing there now. He thinks he can hear a cricket, shakes his head, empties his glass, leaves a generous tip, gets up without a word while the waiter is still thanking him for the fifth time. He makes a weak movement with his hand, hopes the guy understands that it's fine and gets out of there.

  
The city is green, full of life, fresh and young like its trees and grass, soft and a harsh contrast to grey concrete that never gives in when Valtteri walks on it. The parks are quiet in the evening, giving Valtteri the space to think that he lacks on normal days, keeping him safe when he takes a seat, tickling his legs when they meet blades of grass, grounding him, offering comfort.  
The ache he feels in his chest is indescribable, emotions he doesn't know words and descriptions for overwhelming him, the incredibly sad thing that is his life weighing heavy on his shoulders. Down the coastline, the skyscrapers change their colors with the last fading rays of purple on the sky, turning dark and glowing up like a million tiny stars in the windows of offices and apartments. Life goes on, the lingering warmth feels comforting on Valtteri's skin.

  
Perth loves him, shows it through the kindness of the people around him, the girl complimenting his t-shirt, the toddler offering him ice cream, smiles, and conversations. Some guy asks him to take a picture of him and his girlfriend and Valtteri gives in, doesn't know why he does and presses the white button on the foreign phone screen a few times, even makes sure to take some pictures that aren't weirdly blurred before he hands the phone back over, nods when the couple says something about the pictures looking nice. It's just a simple picture and nothing about it is special in Valtteri's eyes. Maybe it's just the fact that it's a picture of them that makes it a nice picture, maybe the love visible in their eyes shines nicely there, maybe it's a memory they want to keep forever. He wouldn't know.

  
He stops in his tracks when he tries walking past the coffee shop he's so familiar with. His chest starts aching again and he hates how he's not over it at all even after all this time. When he looks through the shop window, he can still picture himself sitting at a table with his backpack underneath it, bopping his leg up and down in an almost nervous manner, wiping his sweaty hands on the fabric of his pants. There's a cup of coffee in front of him on the table and it's turning cold, as always, because his counterpart could never bother to arrive on time, blaming it on the traffic or a meeting that lasted longer than planned. Valtteri remembers not being able to contain a smile when the door finally opened with the right person stepping inside. He's not smiling now and he wants to leave, continue his walk down the street to find an ATM because he can't do much with the ten dollars in his pocket, but he can't. His legs won't move, muscles fighting his head and he's beginning to feel nauseous.

  
He doesn't want to feel like this, he wants to look at the coffeeshop when passing by and recognize it and leave it at that, a part of his past he can't get back anyway, wants to not think about all the things he experienced whenever he books his flight, about the people he could possibly run into when he returns. Perth has almost 2 million inhabitants and over 5.7 million tourists every year, the chances are very slim anyway. Besides, he couldn't keep himself from coming back, feeling the weird tugging in his stomach when he boards the plane back home or God knows where to every single time, there's no such thing as coming back too soon.

  
Valtteri gets his hands on some more money later and buys a coffee somewhere else. It feels like a small triumph, allowing him to pretend that it doesn't affect him anymore. Deep down he's well aware that it's not the case at all.

  
The nights are hot and sleepless in the city, making clothes stick to skin and airconditioning a blessing. Valtteri stares at the ceiling of the hotel bedroom, lights from the city dancing across the white canvas while he tries to get his head away from all the thoughts that are keeping him away. He's tired after walking around all day, the heat making it all just more exhausting and his back hurts when he shifts on the mattress. Valtteri wants his head to be empty, blissfully so, but keeps circling back to the same old thoughts and feelings, can't get rid of the heartache and the pain that clings to him.

  
There's seemingly nothing worse than genuinely wanting to let go of the past and yet not being able to move on, especially because Valtteri knows that he shouldn't have a single glimpse of hope left inside him. His head knows that it's over, has known for a long time and his heart, being the always rebellious asshole that it is, drags him back to the western city and lets his pathetic emotions kick his ass for still caring over and over again, for never quite being able to stop.

  
Maybe it's supposed to help him with distancing himself from his heartbreak, coming back, and living through the pain until it makes him numb enough to stop giving a fuck. It's beginning to feel familiar at last. He has yet to figure out whether that's good or bad, presses his eyelids together, tries to contain a scream of frustration. He wants to sleep, needs to if he wants to fight his jetlag in an effective way, and still fails. Valtteri can't even sate one of his most basic human needs, how is he supposed to deal with the need, the want, the yearning deep inside of himself? It truly is pathetic.

  
"Good morning, what can I get started for- jeepers, you look tired. No offense though, I- wait."

  
Daniel stops his cheerful rambling when he recognizes the customer on the other side of the counter and Valtteri feels as if his heart is going to stop. Ironic how fate reunites them here, in the morning buzz of the downtown. Daniel blinks, trying to find words, looking as if someone's trying to prank him. A car honks outside, the girl in line behind Valtteri complains about being late for uni under her breath, the world keeps spinning, concrete streets rumbling outside the coffee shop. He didn't know that Daniel started working as a barista.

  
Valtteri blurts out his standard order before either of them can say something stupid, watches the delicate black lines appearing underneath the collar of Daniel's shirt when he nods and clears his throat. A new tattoo apparently, one Valtteri doesn't know. He says nothing, turns away, starts making the coffee. In hindsight the conversation was stupid, Daniel knows his coffee order, not that it's extraordinary in any way. Maybe he forgot, Valtteri thinks, moves to pick the coffee up, hands over the money, and leaves the change to Daniel. Both their hands are disgustingly sweaty, Valtteri blames it on the oddly warm morning.

  
He leaves, the door closing behind him a bit too forcefully, and runs down the street, careful not to drop the steaming beverage on his way, taking a step around the next corner before he leans against the wall of an office building, tries to get his breath under control, closes his eyes. His head hits the wall, his eyes snap open when his heartbeat slows down a bit, realization settling in when the shock wears off. He lifts the cup to his trembling lips, taking a sip to calm himself down. He's almost angry that it tastes good.

  
The thing is, they haven't seen each other in years, paths never crossing when Valtteri visited the city, and it certainly feels weird to be confronted with this again, the day after he's decided to get over it no matter what it takes. And yet the smile on Daniel's face before he recognized him made his heart ache, the happy sparkle in his eyes making Valtteri's stomach churn before it went out at the sight of the familiar face. It hurts more than he thought it would. They're strangers now, years of living without each other tearing them apart, the distance between them expanding with every decision, every thought, every Tinder match, every breath that they took.

  
It's not fate, just really bad luck. Valtteri hates Perth for setting this up, for bringing them back together that morning. The worst thing about it is the fact that Valtteri looked pretty much dead inside when it happened, which is not exactly how he planned this to go. He wanted to look happy, confident, like he has his life under control, like he's glowed up and grown after their ways parted all those years ago. The truth is that this hasn't happened and the reality hits him straight in the face. Truly pathetic like he said.

  
He wants to go back and hates himself for that, wants to talk and figure out what went wrong, dig up the past, and resolve every single one of their issues. Looking back into the past and trying to fix things would never work though, Valtteri knows that, knows that Daniel wouldn't want to talk about it all again after that much time has passed, knows that he moved on a long time ago. Meeting him again should've taught him a lesson, should've shown him that Daniel isn't as miserable without him as he wanted him to be, needed him to be to get another chance.

  
Another chance is probably a bad idea anyway, bound to end like it did before and yet the want bubbles up again, forcing ugly tears up, pricking Valtteri's eyes. He shouldn't want to get his heart broken again by the same person, that wouldn't be very beneficial for his image. Still pathetic, he's not learning from his mistakes.

  
He really isn't, because he goes back the next morning, makes sure that he looks decent and even takes the time to pick out some nicer clothes before he returns. His heart drops when a different guy smiles at him from behind the counter, orders his coffee, leaves as soon as he's gotten rid of his money, shoves the change back into his wallet. He tells himself that he's not disappointed in the slightest, drowns the sour taste in his mouth with coffee. The glass front of a nearby building reflects the sun and throws the light back into the Valtteri's face. He doesn't know whether the city is trying to cheer him up or figuratively hits him in the head for acting stupid. Either way, neither of the options works out. He empties his coffee and tosses the cup into the next best trashcan, feels bad for drinking so much coffee but shrugs, the cup was made from recycled- whatever, Valtteri really doesn't care, he's got way more stupid shit to deal with.

  
Valtteri packs his bags that night, books a flight to Melbourne, figures there is nothing left to do in this place. It's weighing him down, making it hard to breathe, holding him back from finally moving past this obstacle in his life before it can destroy him whole. He's tired of this circle that keeps repeating itself over and over, dragging him back to Perth, the city he's learned to love and hate, throwing him back into his misery even if he fights the urge to return.

  
Daniel is working when he enters the coffee shop on his last day in the city and he smiles, weakly when he spots Valtteri by the door. His coffee is ready when he steps up to the counter, of course, it is. Daniel does remember his order, maybe from their latest encounter, maybe he's never forgotten it in the first place. His smile doesn't waver, so Valtteri dares to mirror the expression. The guy from the day before is there too, talking to the next customer in line while Daniel is busy avoiding work by throwing himself into a way more uncomfortable situation.

  
"I'm leaving today", he says while Daniel picks up the money from the counter between them, he doesn't know why, doesn't know whether Daniel even cares. He just wants to say something because it's never been this quiet between them. The barista hums when Valtteri continues telling him where to.

  
Their eyes meet in the middle, Valtteri shakes his head, signaling Daniel to keep the change again. Daniel understands and it's almost soothing to see that they're still able to communicate like this, even after all this time. It takes him right back to lazy mornings when neither of them dared to speak, whispered kisses against heated skin, and slow movements of fingertips through messy hair underneath shared blankets. He blinks twice, looks back up at Daniel, and notices that he's probably had the same thought, judging by the way he swallows hard and clears his throat like he always does when he's in a particularly uncomfortable situation.

  
"Will you come back?" he asks, reaching out to keep Valtteri from leaving, sending shivers down his spine when their fingers touch on the rough material of the coffee cup, still fitting together like they always used to. It feels weirdly right but he knows just how wrong it is. He watches closely when Daniel bites his lip, nervous to hear an answer he might not like. Valtteri doesn't know which answer would be worse, tries to figure that out, hesitates. Just for a little while longer, he allows himself to imagine how things could play out ideally, knowing that they most likely never would.

  
He shrugs and Daniel removes his pearly white teeth from his lip, swallows again, hums quietly, and gently squeezes Valtteri's hand around the cup before he lets go. It is visible in his eyes that it hurts him just as much, that he has to fight down the urge to hold on, and Valtteri's heart aches. He wants to cry in frustration because he knows he has to leave before Perth could keep him, before Daniel would ask him to stay. It's the only way to stay sane, the only way to not let it all destroy him, to let Daniel destroy him again. He knows it wouldn't work and he knows that his heart would never believe him.

  
He takes a step back, whispers a broken goodbye. They don't know whether it is the end, whether this will be the final time they meet, the last chance they get to make things right and return to what they used to be. Oh, Valtteri hates this city so much. So much and yet he can't let it go, knows that he will miss it the moment his plane takes off. Daniel waves without any energy left in the movement, forced to go back to work when his co-worker asks him to. It takes a lot of power to tear his gaze away, even more power for Valtteri to leave. The cup suddenly feels way too heavy in his hand.

He will return, one day. They're both aware that he will. Luckily, Perth is the prettiest sin that Valtteri knows.


End file.
